Life's, Well, It's Murder
by Rakusa
Summary: A murderer is after them,but the biggest worry is whether or not they'll kill each other first.
1. Prelude edited

12.07.04- original story began

8.1.12- revamp

AN: I always meant for this story to get more written, but somehow it got waylaid under piles of other ones. So here it is, the revamped version.

AN2: I know this chapter is very short, but it's a _lot_ longer than the original one, so yay!

Summary: A murderer is after them, but the biggest worry is whether or not they'll kill each other first.

* * *

There was a crash as something fell and broke into several tiny pieces from the figure lumbering forward. Falling into the wall, then the mantel and finally the door. There a streak of blood followed on a downward path, following the hand reaching out to support the body but failing.

A muffled thump as the body fell to the floor. The room around it spun and then spun the other way. Nausea joined the dizziness. The image grew unfocused and then the edges started fading, moving in to a single point in the center. Narrowing until all that was left was a sliver of a view and no matter how much fighting in the opposite, it wouldn't grow again.

Heaving gasps and pained groans died off to shallow breaths, unable to get enough oxygen but not doing anything with it when it entered the body except make the blood run faster.

There were feet pounding the wooden hallway just beyond the door. Sirens ran in the distance. The door broke and shattered. The shards landed on the prone body but none of them were felt. Sound was slowly decaying as well. The narrowed vision got darker, but able to see a shape above it, moving, and felt hands on the shoulders. Words, unrecognizable and unimportant were screamed. Not even a muscle twitched in response.

Then everything shut off completely, no more vision, no more sound, no more touch. All there was was a blank slate where even thoughts didn't go. Then it was official, life was ending. The last breath was exhaled.


	2. Chapter 1 edited

Chapter 1

AN: The real title to this story is a bit more... shall we say, explicit? Something that rhyme's with beach... I just didn't think people would appreciate the title thrown in their face without warning or ability to block it. Sorry. But now you know and if you don't, don't ask anyone, ok?

* * *

Serena cowered low in the closet and peeked through the bars at the scene playing out before her. The wood was cold under her hands and she squeezed her eyes shut when the bullet was released from its holder. She buried her face into her knees to try and block the whimper that came out unbidden from her mouth.

She prayed that the noise was covered up by the rest of the ones that were happening. She barely managed to peek one eye up and they felt glued to her cheeks. The shooter was putting the gun away and froze, looking around the room and then turned towards the closet. Serena tried to shrink herself even smaller, and it was barely possible, she might look like a pile of clothing on the ground. She winced as she realized that there were no clothes. This place was abandoned.

But that was only providing if the man saw her at all through the slanted plates. He took a step forward towards the doors protecting her from sight when they both heard a blessed noise. Sirens. To her it was the best sound she could ever hear, even though it usually meant that someone was in trouble. And someone was, the man who stood in the large room, who was still debating on whether or not to deal with the noise he might or might not have heard over everything else.

There was a groan from the man on the ground and the one standing turned and kicked him, hard. Then since the sirens were getting closer, he gave up on investigating the room. He took off down the stairs, closing the door tight behind him.

Serena watched as the man struggled to his feet and winced as he made an ungraceful path towards the only exit. Serena hesitated, she was the reason why the police were coming, but should she make her presence known, now? Should she risk it before they came and dealt with everything? What if the other man came back to finish the job? What if the police weren't stopping here and he only went to watch their progress? Serena stuffed the phone back into her pocket and tried to ignore the bright light shining through the fabric. She had to be brave, she couldn't just sit there and watch this man die without trying to help.

She knew a little from school, more from television and nothing at all that was really important. Serena pushed open the door into the room but it wouldn't budge. She pushed again and again with more and more weight until finally it gave and she flew out of it, landing with a thud on her knees. She gingerly got to her feet and made her way to the man withering in pain on the ground.

She fell to her knees again at his side and tore off her sweater, she pressed it to his chest where blood was squirting out in a geyser, mumbling incoherent things. She didn't even know what she was trying to say or why words were coming out of her mouth, she just knew that she had to try and reassure him, especially if these were his last hours.

The door busted open and she leaned over the man, trying to protect him. Shirking away from the very real possibility that the person who came in was here to kill her too. Then there was another body next to hers, more hands pressing and pushing hers aside. Hands she knew, hands that had often given her annoyance, just like the person behind them.

She had forgotten all about him. Had forgotten that he was in the house, having followed her there. He was right, after all, this was a very stupid idea and she was going to pay for it. She felt like crying, especially now that she wasn't doing anything, just kneeling next to a man she didn't know, watching him slowly fade from existence. She reached for his hand, but it was unresponsive in hers. She squeezed it tight and could feel the warm blood flow away, trying to protect the heart. It grew colder in her hand as they sat there. Him trying to save this man's life, her, trying to ease his passing if he couldn't hold on, but she wanted him to.

He could have been anyone, and it wouldn't have mattered. No life should be taken like this.

Serena curled around the hand, placing it in her lap and her shoulders shook as she tried to hold back the sobs that wanted to take her over. Sobs for him, for herself. For everyone in this wretched planet.

"'Dango-" The word was pulled out of the other man's mouth, the one who had taken over holding pressure and her attention was snared and she looked up. "Hold this." He pressed her hands back against the soaked and sodded sweater she had put there.

Her hands were slippery but it gave her something to do and she fought against the challenge to lose grip. He disappeared back out the door and she wanted to call out to him, plead that he didn't leave her here, alone with this stranger and his dying body. That she was scared and didn't know what to do, how to help him or anyone.

But the other was back in a moment and he was moving her hands holding them to the side and pressed them down again. He looked at the wound and then closed the case he had brought back and shook his head. His hands didn't go for hers, instead they went to her elbows, moving hand over hand up her arms until he was tugging her over the dead man's body and then his hands lowered to her waist and picked her off the ground and cleared the one on the ground. She was being sheltered by him, her head pressed into his chest and was on his lap, they were rocking back and forth, and Serena suddenly didn't notice anything any more of what was around them. She simply shut down and could only concentrate on what the warm one was doing, and that was swaying. His hands were between her shoulder blades and on the back of her head.

Her hands clung to his front, clung so tightly that it was impossible to dislodge her fingers when the cavalry finally arrived. Even when she was aware of what she was doing, her fingers had spasmed and refused to budge. Not that he was letting her go either.

They were ushered into the officer's car in the back, his knees almost to his chest with how tight it was back there and she found herself wedged between them and his chest, but she didn't utter a single sound of protest. He was still making sounds that were meant to soothe. She didn't notice, she only noticed his warmth, something so vital, something so alive.

She gulped and swallowed back the vile that wanted to crawl up her esophagus.


End file.
